


Allergies (FebuWhump 01)

by SylvanFreckles



Series: Freckles' FebuWhump 2021 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allergies, Angst and Humor, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Human Castiel, M/M, febuwhump alt 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanFreckles/pseuds/SylvanFreckles
Summary: Dean and a newly-human Castiel try to interview the owner of a restaurant for a case. Things go badly...and, as usual, Cas faces the consequences."Dude. Why are you allergic to everything?"
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Freckles' FebuWhump 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139234
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Allergies (FebuWhump 01)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how to do this because my FebuWhump stories are from a bunch of different fandoms, so I'm just gonna post them one-by-one and put them in a series. Enjoy!
> 
> This is for alternate prompt #8: Allergies

“Here we go,” Dean announced, pulling the car into one of the restaurant's parking spaces. “This the place?”

Castiel, sitting in the passenger's seat, stared down at his phone with a frown for a moment. “According to Sam the chicken bone from the hex bag showed signs of being deep-fried, and three of the members of city council who opposed Deputy Mayor Sloane's proposed interstate bypass operate restaurants that serve deep-fried chicken...”

“Short story, Cas,” Dean cut in, holding a hand up. “I was there for, y'know, the exposition the first time.” He shoved open the door to the Impala and climbed out, automatically checking his pocket for the wallet with his counterfeit FBI badge.

Cas had climbed out, too, and stared at him over the roof of the car for a moment. “That was a rhetorical question.”

“Yeah, see, he gets it!” Dean shot him a grin to take the edge off of his words. “Let's go.”

He felt more than heard Cas fall into step beside him. Cas had been returned to them three months ago—alive and whole and human, thanks to Jack. Chuck was gone, they finally had full control over their own lives, and even more important they had the _time_ to figure things out now.

Providing, of course, Dean could ever bring himself to say anything out loud.

“Here we go,” he said, pushing the restaurant's door open. There was a teenager behind the counter, dressed in a ridiculous apron and hat that went with the restaurant's theme.

“Hey there,” Dean approached the kid, wallet out to show his badge. “We need to speak to the boss.”

The teen's eyes widened behind her glasses. “He's, uh, he's out back. Disposing of the oil.”

“Thanks.” If he'd been a younger man...and if things were less complicated...he might have flirted with her. But as it was, now that he was past forty and Cas was right behind him snuffling into his sleeve (Dude, come on), it really didn't seem appropriate.

Cas sneezed.

“Bless you. Jeez,” Dean held the door open to let Cas exit first. “You getting sick, man?”

“I don't think so,” Cas shook his head and sniffed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “I feel a sudden...discomfort.”

Dean pulled a face. “Well, let's talk to Mr Chicken, then we can get you back to the hotel to get some rest, all right?”

“I'm fine, Dean.”

Right. Fine. With the way he was blinking and trying to surreptitiously wipe the corners of his eyes on his sleeves. Either Cas was coming down with a cold or he'd gotten a lungful of something that didn't agree with him.

They made their way around to the back of the restaurant, where Dean spotted a man pouring out a bucket of oil into some kind of bio-waste bin. “Excuse me, Mr. Graham?”

Graham looked up, and when the two of them got closer Dean pulled his wallet out again so the other man could see his ID. “We'd just like to ask you some questions.”

The man hesitated, looking from Dean to Cas for a moment, then with a low oath he hauled the bucket up and around and threw its contents at the two Hunters.

Dean shouted and ducked and managed to avoid most of the mess, but when he looked up he realized Cas's reflexes hadn't been as good and the former angel was covered in disgusting, filthy frying oil.

“Duck next time, jeez,” Dean half-snarled, pushing himself up to his feet to take off after Graham. Cas was usually quicker than that...either he was still adjusting to the whole “things can hurt me now” stuff, or whatever was making him sick was hitting harder than Dean had thought.

“D-Dean?”

The stammered cry had him wheeling back around. Cas was pawing at his face, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes. “Cas?”

“It's—something—something's wrong. I can't...” Cas let out a gagging cough and doubled over, and when he glanced up at Dean there were already bright red spots blooming on his exposed skin.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grabbed the back of Cas's jacket and hauled it off. “Take it off. Get it all off.”

“Dean...”

“It's the oil, Cas, you're covered in it.”

Shit. Shit.  _Shit_ . The redness was spreading. Dean could already see the rash spreading down Cas's neck, puffing up the skin as it went. “Take it off,” he repeated. “I'll get the kit.”

It was Sam who'd made the unfortunate discovery that Cas's humanity came at a cost. His immune system was basically non-existent, and with that came a broad spectrum of allergies. And, judging by the smell, Mr. Graham's restaurant fried their chicken in peanut oil.

(It turned out bees were one of the few things Cas wasn't allergic to, and Dean suspected it was actually some hive-mind magic to protect the angel that had once watched over them so lovingly. He was happy about it, of course, and seeing Cas sitting in his little garden reading ancient Sumerian to his little beehives always brought a warm feeling to his chest.)

Dean grabbed the kit out of the Impala's trunk and tucked it under one arm to sprint back to Cas. It had some basics for an emergency like this—antihistamines, hydrocortisone cream, epi-pens, baby wipes. He rounded the corner and found Cas bent over at the waist, shirt hanging loose from his arms, fingers clenched into the fabric of his pants as he gasped for breath.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered again. He slid to a stop next to Cas and dropped the kit. “Cas?”

The former angel looked up at him, face already swollen and mottled red and white. He tried to talk but let out a cough and clawed at his throat.

“No, no, hey, don't do that,” Dean caught his wrist. “Let's get this shit off you.”

There was a spigot with a hose near the back door. Dean cranked the water on and hunted down the end of the hose, pulling out his phone to call for paramedics.

“Yeah, hey,” he said, when the emergency operator picked up. “My buddy's having an allergic reaction to peanut oil, some asshole threw it all over him.”

Cas let out a wheeze of protest. Dean rolled his eyes and tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear, redirecting the water in the hose toward Cas's face. He hadn't turned it up too high, just wanting to rinse as much of that shit off as possible. “Yeah, I'm still here.”

He listened as the emergency operator listed off things to check for, relaying Cas's answers to their questions. “Ambulance on its way, man,” he said, helping Cas sit down on the curb behind the restaurant. “Nope, no buts about this one.”

Cas's face was already swollen, and his breaths were a painful-sounding wheeze. He hung his head and slumped against Dean with a pitiful sound.

Dean shifted the phone to one hand and gently rubbed Cas's back with the other. “Yes, he's still awake,” he said into the phone. “I have an epi-pen...no, no, I haven't used it. Yeah, yeah, I can hear the sirens.”

As the flash of red lights came around the corner, Dean shifted his hand up to the back of Cas's neck. “Dude,” he finally whispered with a shaky laugh. “Why are you allergic to everything?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I hand-waved a bunch of stuff about allergies. Rest assured, Cas is fine and Sam and Dean catch the bad chicken man before he hurts anyone else.
> 
> Let me know what you think! It's kind of Destiel-lite because that wasn't going to be part of the story, but you can read it as friendship if you'd rather.
> 
> Remember, reviews feed the muse, and the muse loves whump!


End file.
